Trekking for Doctor Good Bar
by 13empress
Summary: the Star Trek is REALLY the future and the 10th Doctor takes Martha Jones to twenty-third century London where she meets someone very familiar but the wrong gender


_**Good Bar Trekking**_

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* * *

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'You're joking?'

He gave her a shrug and another one of his little grins.

'You're joking? You're not joking? Seriously?' She said, because this was bloody amazing. She gaped some more, before hitting him on the arm. _'Seriously?_'

He gave her one crazy eyebrow and another one of his enigmatic grin-and-shrug acts. She hit him again and put her hands on her hips. 'You're not just shitting me right? And we're like in some kind of freaky holographic simulation device thingy,' She narrowed her eyes, pointing at him, 'Because you know, I wouldn't put it past you. And-' Her eyes widened and she stared hard at the tall woman with pointy ears that just walked by. She spun around and grabbed his arm, 'Did you see that? Was that a-?'

Still grinning like a schoolboy, the Doctor ducked his head and nodded slowly, looking way too smug. With a grin she slapped him in the chest. 'You're joking aren't you?'

Still grinning, he shook his head and making a face, scratched the back of his neck. 'Sorry to disappoint you Martha but this is real - welcome to the twenty-third century, London, Earth, the homeworld of the United Federation of Planets.'

She stared at him for one long moment before covering her mouth with her hands and squealing like a Japanese school girl. The Doctor looked at her with that insufferable grin and then broke out into laughter.

'Seriously!' She hissed, grinning like a maniac because this was bloody brilliant! She suddenly frowned, 'Wait does this mean that Gene what's his name, the bloke that wrote Star Trek, he's from the future?'

The Doctor pulled one of his awkward faces and rolled his head, bobbing like a turkey. 'Well, technically...' He trailed off with another one of those faces, the ones where it was something that he thought was a bit erk, 'He's actually the bloke who invented time travel - for humans that is. Never worked out real well because see, it was his first experiment and he got himself bopped back to the twentieth century, and well, that's that. We sent someone after him and got him settled him in, and told him he couldn't do anything to affect history.'

'But he made Star Trek! How is that not changing the past! Why didn't you guys just put him in the TARDIS and send him home?'

He hummed before folding his arms, going all serious on her. 'It was one of those wibbly wobbly time things.'

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him, 'Timelords are Trekkies aren't they?'

It had been pretty obvious when he jumped to year 2012 and made her watch Star Trek film number 12, the PREMIERE no less, - which he had affectionately called "Star Trek Reboot Number 2" and ate an entire mega-size popcorn, drank a litre of passion pop, and then ate two Mars bars "now with white chocolate". Her brother practically shat himself when she got him the tickets for the premiere to be mailed a month before April 2012 - through TARDIS magic.

With an insufferable wag of his eyebrows, he held up his hand in a very familiar gesture (one that her dad and her brother used to do - A LOT - mostly to annoy her mum) and gave her one of his cheeky grins. 'Live Long and Prosper!' He announced cheerfully like he was saying Merry Christmas And A Happy New Year, or God Bless the Queen.

She tittered and scrambled quickly behind him when a strange tentacle creature squirmed past on Trafalgar Square. The Doctor gave it a cheerful wave, 'Hello there!'

The tentacle monster stopped and one of its octopus arms did a little wave before it went on its way. Martha let go of the Doctor's shoulders and gave him a slightly disturbed look.

'What, _the hell_, was that?'

'A Sulamid - very useful species, very good at engineering and tennis, and bartending. They have the highest number of winners in the Milky Way Awards for the Best Bartenders. Deadly with a blender and a martini glass.'

Naturally, she thought, standing on the spot because this, this, _this_ was insane. They were talking about STAR TREK ALIENS with tentacles who were the best bartenders and apparently won awards - like COCKTAIL DEATHMATCH contests or something. Abnormally cheerful, the Doctor waved for her to come along and hurried across the empty street towards the National Art Gallery. Or what used to the National Art Gallery. It was now encased in glass and had a massive skyscraper towering over it that shined like it was a pearl. It literally took her breath away. Bloody gorgeous. And they were showing - she gaped - _Klingon Medieval War Art?_

He offered his arm in a show of manners, nudging his head at the gallery entrance swamped with fat giant babies with yellow skin. 'Come on then!'

Giggling she took his offered arm, 'If Leo was here, he would bloody freak - _bloody freak!_ My dad too.'

'Bit of a Trekkie is he?'

She shook her head, a grin permanently stitched over her lips. 'Like you _wouldn't _believe.'

With a shared look of excitement, they walked up the stairs. For _Klingon Medieval War Art_.

'Wait, so like Captain Kirk? Is he really a galactic manwhore?'

The Doctor gave her enigmatic smile, 'Well, it's complicated. How about we take in the sights first eh Miss Jones?'

Martha gave him a toothy grin and gripped his arm harder, 'Let's, Mister Smith, let's.'

* * *

As it was in the Doctor's own words, "the safest planet in the entire galaxy - well, at least until 4122" Martha Jones had been given a credit clip, a little slim device that really looked a bit like a sort of Ipod Touch, only smaller and skinnier. It was loaded with 50000 credits for her pleasure, and he had some old friends to look up so could she be a dear and have a bit of fun on her own - OH would she ever! Vulcans! She thought excitedly, a bit overwhelmed. Warp Drive. Mr. Spock. KLINGONS. And dad's total teenage crush, Miss Uhura! Martha skipped a bit on her next step and resisted the urge to squeal some more, because this, THIS was fantastic! Quickly walking down the street to Soho, which according to the Doctor was STILL Soho, only more posh and a lot more "exotic", she could barely keep her knees from shaking from excitement. First, though, before shopping or checking out freaky alien strip joints, she needed a drink.

Walking into a bar called The Antares, she quickly got lost in looking around at all the ALIENS - oh my GOD THAT WAS ONE OF THOSE FREAKY ANDORIANS!

Gasping, Martha looked away when he glared at her and hurried to the bar. 'Um,' She gestured vaguely, 'Whatever's on tap.'

The big burly blue bald alien with the big tattoo/skin flap down the middle of his face turned to her and laughed riotously, 'On tap! How utterly quaint! Oh my dear, I think you're in the wrong place if you're after local brew - sorry, eggplant, but we don't serve human beverages here. But,' He leaned forwards and gestured for her to come closer.

She smiled nervously and did so, slightly wary, except the Doctor had said that it was safe and um, wasn't the Federation supposed to be like "United Nations Peacekeeping Extraordinaires In Space and On Steroids With Amazing Swishy Ships and Aliens Flocking to Join in the Group Hug"?

He gave her a speculative look, 'You're a local aren't you? I can tell from the way you talk. Listen, if you ever find a bar in London that serves good human alcohol or still does it on tap, could you do me a big favor and tell me about it?' Glancing around, he leaned closer and fixed her with a slightly embarrassed look, 'I have a thing for pre-twenty-first century human beverages and their methods of serving it.' At her lack of response, he took it to mean she thought it was weird and gave her a little shrug, looking down. 'It's hobby of mine.'

A smile stiff across her face, she stared at the blue alien's dark eyes and gripped the edge of the bar, wondering if she could pull back now because she was pretty sure that this alien didn't brush his teeth - ever - and liked to eat garbage. 'Right,' She choked out, holding her breath, 'Mum's the word.'

'Is it?' He said, looking confused. He pulled back, looked away and with a self-reflective huh, broke into a huge grin and approached the new group that had arrived at the bar. Martha slumped in relief and then stiffened when she realized that the aliens who'd just walked in looked like a cross between a pig and a dog with a gorilla, standing up and dressed like Genghis Khan. BLOODY BRILLIANT!

One of the other bartenders came over, a human - thankfully - this time. The guy gave her a smile, 'What'll it be? Denobulan Daiquiri, Cardassian Sunrise, or Risan's version of Hot Klingon Nipples? Those are the specials today.''

OH sexy Scottish accent! Just ugh.

She gave him a grin and hopped up on the stool, feeling adventurous and - oh he was SO cute; damn, it seemed that the casting people for Star Trek got one thing right. Total HUNK - if this was what the human race ended up looking like in Star Trek verse future that the human race was heading for, then DAMMIT, she wanted to quit the TARDIS and join Starfleet Academy and see the entire bloody GALAXY! With an excited grin, she put her credit clip down on the bar, ready to go. 'I've pretty much grown up on beer, vodka and whiskey - what do you recommend?'

His eyebrows shot up and he gave her an odd look, 'You've never had any stuff from offworld? Seriously?'

Martha shrugged and hoped that wasn't too weird, 'Strict parents. Don't like alien stuff. You know.'

He nodded and gave her an understanding look, 'Ah right, one of those. Yeah my dad has this cousin, apparently he never drinks anything except Scotch.'

Was that a bad thing?

'I recommend a Cardassian Sunrise, followed by a Coridan Crystal Chaser, and then a good old Trill classic, the Symbiote Slugger.'

Turning to look at the new person at the bar, Martha was surprised with a ripple of thick blonde hair as the woman took off her baseball hat and leather jacket, looking like she'd just walked away from a shoot at Victoria's Secret. The bartender gave the newcomer a smile and took her jacket and cap, putting it somewhere under the bar. Her eyes widened. Woah, what was it about this place? This woman was gorgeous, even if she was dressed like - well, a guy, or Leo when he was being lazy. In contrast, she almost felt - Martha glanced down at her Levi jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. She was better dressed but bloody hell - she glanced over at the woman's legs - she had NOTHING on this American. She grinned suddenly. The good ol' US of A still existed!

The bartender came back and leaned on the bar, giving them both a smile, 'What will it be ladies?'

The woman took out her own clip and slapped it on the bar, 'I'll have a Rigelian Kick and a Black Hole, thanks.'

The bartender turned to her. Martha glanced at the woman, 'What she recommended, thanks. And her drinks are on me.'

It would probably be good to get to know a local - well, someone from this century. The American woman gave her a speculative look and suddenly smiled, 'Thanks.'

Martha nodded and smiled back, as the bartender tapped a longer larger version of a wafer against hers - there was a beep. 'Five drinks, coming up!'

The woman put her credit clip away and leaned across the long hard stone strip of the bar, hand out. 'Jamie. Hey.'

Shaking the offered hand enthusiastically, she grinned. 'Martha Jones! Very pleased to meet you!'

Jamie gave her an amused look, 'Likewise. You're a local huh?' One of their first drinks arrived in a tall thin cylinder shaped glass with a broad bottom - it looked like something back from lab in high school. It was pitch black and frankly looked a bit like crude oil. Oh yuck. Jamie picked it up and swigged it like an expert, 'I'm on leave - know any good places?'

She shrugged apologetically, 'Sorry, I'm not from London; I'm from a bit further out, doing a bit of sightseeing myself really.'

'Huh,' Jamie said, and dragged a small bowl of what looked like pigeon eggs covered in cheese over. 'Oh well, maybe we can go find some hot spots together.'

Martha beamed and gave a little laugh. Two hours and she'd made a friend already, 'That would be brilliant! Yeah totally.'

'Cardassian Sunrise.' The bartender announced and put a big cocktail glass in front of her - well, hello there - with a little orange umbrella and pieces of what looked like BLUE orange slices as garnishing. The straw was also blue and even swirly. With an excited little wriggle, she took a deep suck - and promptly coughed.

Jamie passed the little bowl of pigeon eggs to her, 'Here, this helps.'

Taking one of the pigeon eggs, she made a disgusted face and put it in her mouth and - instantly widened her eyes, chewing frantically because this was like the best, softest, sweetest without being too sweet, best freaking marshmallow and apple pie she'd ever tasted. And THAT didn't even make any sense but suddenly, the powerful acidic drink she'd just had became like the best damn tropical juice with rum she'd ever had, smooth and tart and sweet and – 'This,' She gasped, wiping at her mouth, 'Is bloody _unreal_.'

With a chuckle, Jamie took another swig of her crude oil. 'Yeah, it is pret-ty awesome.' She swallowed thickly and pointed at the drink, which went from an orange-red sort of colour and then gradually shifted to blue at the bottom. 'Wait till you get to the stratosphere.'

Tilting her head, Martha looked at the red-orange part of the drink. 'What's it taste like?' She asked, excited.

Jamie waved her hand about, taking another long gulp of the black substance. 'Trust me, it's good.'

With a brilliant grin, she toasted the other woman. 'Cheers then!'

'Aye-aye.' Jamie said, clicking their glasses together before she took two of the pigeon eggs and threw them into her mouth like popcorn. The bartender from before came by and refilled the little dish, giving them both smiles before rushing off again. 'So ah,' The American began, 'What you do?'

'Ah, well I'm actually studying to be a doctor.'

Jamie swallowed painfully, and then gave a little cough, 'Seriously?'

'Yeah.' Martha took another sip, 'Why? What did you think I do?'

'Um,' The blonde smiled and looked up at the ceiling, 'I don't know, but not medicine. And that's not,' She pointed at Martha, eyebrows raised, 'Definitely not a dig at you personally - my best friend is a doctor and he's the best damn doctor in the galaxy but let's just say that he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed more often than not, and is a bit hypospray-happy.'

HYPO - SPRAY. Just – just – SQUEE! Martha took another swig of the Cardassian Sunrise and felt the fumes burn her eyeballs. Coughing a little, she quickly grabbed one of the pigeon eggs and popped it into her mouth. Salted peanuts had nothing on Star Trek pigeon eggs served at alien-alcohol-only bars in Soho. 'So what do you do?'

Jamie gave her a long look and then smiled, 'Oh, this and that. I'm mostly on a ship, fly around, you know.'

'Seriously?' Martha's eyes widened, 'How fast does it go?'

Giving her a strange look, the American smiled, 'Well, on a good day it can go Warp 8.5.'

That's fast right? She searched her memory trying to think back to all the fanboying that dad and Leo used to do in the family room messing about with those ancient videotapes. 'That is totally cool.' She settled on.

'Very.' Jamie replied with a smug little smile. Oh good, Martha thought, she'd said the right thing.

Suddenly the bartender arrived with another drink. It was in a small shot glass and looked like mercury. Alarmed she watched as Jamie picked it up with a pleased ohh, toasted her and threw it back.

The American slammed the shot glass on the bar so hard it broke. With a grin like a patron hadn't just destroyed their property, the bartender whipped out a hand-held vac and cleaned up the mess. Bent over on the bar, Jamie had her eyes closed and seemed to be in pain. Concerned, Martha hopped off her stool and reached out a hand.

'UGH!' Jamie bit out, whipping back up and gasping for air like she'd just run a marathon, 'WOAH - that is some Rigelian Kick you got there.'

The bartender saluted with the bottle he was pouring into a fancy looking blender.

With a lazy smile, Jamie leaned against the bar and turned to her. 'So, what are you interested in? I've got a hover car outside so we can pretty much hit any place within the city limits. If we ask, the bar will let us use their network, do a bit of review-reading. You hungry? I'm feeling hungry.'

With a relieved and slightly overwhelmed shrug, Martha Jones smiled, 'Yeah, alright, sounds fantastic.'

Spending an afternoon in a car that floated a foot above the ground and looked like Luke Skywalker's ride when he was a teenager, Martha Jones was having the time of her life. They had had Andorian-style cuisine - a mix of cold cut meats only tender and the best bloody sushi she'd ever had. And she's had GOOD sushi - the Doctor and her had visited the Tsukiji Fish Markets in 1982. They'd drunk Andorian ale - which was BLUE and tasted like lychee but so much sweeter, and attended a live jam session of an Andorian band called The Lens Flare Effect that was on tour and covering Elton John - YES Elton John - in Andorian blues style!

Hurrying after Jamie who was swaging through the crowd in front of a Risan-themed nightclub, she looked around her and wished that the Doctor was here. Even if he was a Timelord and 900 years old, whatever, THIS was brilliant and she was certain that he would have LOVED it. There were two large looking bouncers, the same blue bald aliens as the bloke from The Antares. Flashing a grin, Jamie ran a hand through her hair. Martha fought down a smirk and glanced away. Okay, now Jamie was gorgeous and all, but these were _alien bouncers who ate garbage_ - they probably couldn't tell if a human being was gorgeous unless another human being told them. But well, at least Jamie was fun that way.

'Hey boys,' The blonde said in a low rather seductive voice, 'How's business?'

The two aliens beamed at her. Weird, Martha thought, they were always smiling, must be an alien thing.

'Very busy, thank you so much for asking.' One of them said, all bright and chirpy like a Stepford wife clone. 'How has your evening been?'

She snorted. _Weird_ alien bouncers.

'Could be better.' Jamie said, hands casually propped on her hips. She nodded to the inside of the club, 'Think you can do us a favor?'

The talking one's smile turned apologetic. Putting his hands together, he tilted his head, 'I am so sorry, but we really are very busy.'

With a shrug, Jamie flashed them a grin, 'No probs - thanks for the chat, guys.'

Nodding their heads slowly with pleased smiles, the blue aliens went back to grinning at passbyers and bowing every time someone left the club, wishing them a "Good Orbit". Suddenly, one of the men in the line, a very tall man with funny little lumps arranged in C shapes down the side of his face pointed at Jaime, his mouth agape and his eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

'OH THE FAMILIES, YOU'RE JAIME, YOU'RE JAIME TIBERIUS KIRK, CAPTAIN OF THE USS ENTERPRISE.'

YOU - ARE - FRACKING - WITH - ME!

_NO WAY_ - JUST - **NO**!

SHUT - **UP**!

Martha Jones turned around so fast she got whiplash. Jaime waved her hands vaguely as more and more people in the long queue to the club started to pay attention, whispering and pointing. Even some of the pedestrians had stopped and were looking now.

'No, no it's not-'

The alien practically jumped over the rope cordoning the line off from the other pedestrians. With a happy eager laugh, he got on his knees and stared up at her with a worshipful blissed-out expression.

'You are my hero! I'm going to be a first-year at the Academy in a month's time! Will you marry me?'

Both her eyebrows hit her hairline and her eyes widened to the size of Jupiter.

With a tired but amused laugh, Jaime rubbed her eyes, hand on her hip. 'Ah, cadet, get off your knees.'

Jumping up to attention, the young alien saluted her, eyes shining with adoration. 'AYE-AYE SIR!'

Captain Jaime T. Kirk looked around at all of the people staring at her and gave them a strained smile. 'Ah, hi,' She said, waving, 'Eh, yeah I'm Jem Kirk.'

Suddenly the entire part of their street broke into applause, hooting, cawling, whistling and - mooing? With a wave and a rather tired smile, Jaime did a circle and then, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her quickly into the nightclub. Which was called MONEY MONEY by the way, the blue aliens moving out of the way with happy little claps. Finally inside the cheerfully lit club full of weird tropical plants and scatily clab people with diamontes stuck over their faces, Martha Jones threw back a Rigelian Kick, gagged at the burn, conked out on the VIP bar, fell unconscious for five seconds where she had this strange flash of the sensation of falling like she was on a rollercoaster and then with a sloppy wet nasty sniff, brushed her hair out of her face and faced her new friend.

'You're the Captain of the Enterprise?' She asked weakly, because this, this, well, this - bloody hell, what was this?

'But you're a _woman_!' Martha heard herself say, and then without consulting her brain, her hands shot out and patted down _Female James T. Kirk's boobs_. They were **real**. FRACK.

Jaime T. Kirk gave her an amused look, 'You know, Martha Jones, you are a _really_ strange girl. Of course I'm a woman. It's not exactly a secret.'

Martha stopped prodding and gave a nervous awkward shrug, 'Sorry, doctor-in-training.'

Shaking her head, the woman took another drink of Budweiser classic, on the house naturally. Martha glanced over to the side, curious as three of the bartenders nervously shuffled over, one of them, an alien with green skin, holding a big tall drink that was literally shimmering - like a liquid opal all lit up.

'Ahem,' The one human bartender said, an older woman who smiled warmly at Jaime and then nudged Green-fanboy forwards. 'Captain Kirk, we'd just like to say that we are so honoured by your visit - we've made a special drink, just for you.'

Jaime leaned on the bar and laughed, 'Seriously? Awesome.'

With a please grin, the woman put down a coaster advertising Denobulan Tongue Tickler, and Green-fanboy put the drink down gently. Swirling the straw around in it, the female version of a 20th-21st century icon took a giant suck.

'Hmm!' She said, fanning herself, 'Woah, that packs a punch. What are you calling it?'

The green alien beamed from the attention, 'The Kirk Nebula.'

Smiling, Jaime gave the alien the thumbs up. 'Nice. I like.' Sliding it over to her, the woman nodded towards the cocktail that had just been named after her. 'Go on, it's _brilliant_.'

Damn right it was.

Hours later, staggering out of MONEY MONEY, Martha Jones realised that if this was what the London nightlife was like now, Las Vegas had to be out of this dimension.

* * *

Closing the door of the Tardis, Martha Jones slumped on back on the old chipped wood with a dreamy smile.

'Well hello there, look who it is!' The Doctor said cheerfully, jumping up from behind the Tardis main controls with a giant hammer in his hand. 'You look happy! What did you get up to!'

Staggering forwards, she collapsed against the rails and moaned. 'You got any of those pills left? The hangover ones?'

'Sure.' The Doctor frowned at her, a little bit concerned. He quickly lifted up one of the floor panels and lied on the floor, groping madly for something - the hangover medicine, she hoped. 'You're looking a bit pale - you didn't drink anything non-human proof did ya? Cos you know, um, some of the alien alcohols are rather poisonous - well, I suppose that all alcohols are poisons really - but then your liver does the work-' He rambled on, making his usual faces as he grunted and wriggled, arm deep into the alcove under the floor grilles.

NON-human proof. What the bloody-? POISONOUS! Bloody hell!

'AHA!' He exclaimed and jumped up, a marmalade jam jar in his fist. Quickly unscrewing it, he took out one of the white mints and put one in her outstretched hand.

With a nod of thanks, Martha swallowed it quickly. Seconds later, she felt human again. Groaning, she ran her hands through her hair, and stretched. 'What a night!'

Propped back against the TARDIS console, the Doctor crossed his arms and gave her grin, 'Got a bit over-excited?'

'Bloody yes!' She exclaimed, stumbling over to the seats and inching onto one, pretty gobsmacked about the last twenty-four hours. She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the Timelord, 'Doctor, did you know that Captain Kirk is actually a woman, and her name is Jaime?'

With his usual enigmatic weirdness, the Doctor straightened and put his hands in his pockets, smug like a naughty schoolboy. 'It was the sixties.'

And women couldn't command starships on TV in the sixties, even if Mr. Gene Whoever whined about historical accuracy.

Looking up, he gave her a brilliant grin and rubbed his hands together. 'RIGHT THEN! What would you like to see next? Risa? Beautiful beaches - ohhh, got to see it to believe it -'

And off he goes again, Martha thought fondly.

'No thanks Doctor, how about taking me home? I feel like I can eat a pack of fish and chips, eat two Big Macs and then have a bowl of Sara Lee's Cuppacino ice cream with whipped cream and almonds.' She moaned, rubbing her stomach.

Nodding with a smile, the Doctor reached out and pulled the lever. 'Home it is.'

* * *

'Doctor?'

'Hmm...?'

'Who was that old friend you were going to meet?'

'Oh, you wouldn't know him. Actually, you might. Name's Leonard McCoy. He's a doctor, you know. Met him once in Georgia, there were these nasty aliens killing humans and then taking on their forms, taking over the world, galactic domination, rah rah, and well, it wasn't like Starfleet knew what they were doing - so I thought, you know, I'd help, pop in, do a little razzle dazzle. Doctor McCoy was a registrar at the nearest local hospital, and I kind of used his lab without permission and well...'

'…. Doctor, that's Night of the Body Snatchers.'

* * *

Leo opened the door and blinked at her, surprised. With a quick kiss and hug, she slipped past him.

'Alright,' He said, closing the door, 'This is unexpected. What's going on?'

'Have you still got those Star Trek tapes you and dad used to watch?'

With a roll of his eyes, Leo crossed his arms and gave her a bemused look. 'I replaced them with DVDs ages ago, sis, and what's this about eh? You hated Star Trek.'

Martha Jones put her hands on her hips, 'I did not. I had a crush on Mr. Spock!'

'Whatever.' Leo muttered, before grinning at her, 'So you want to watch some or what?'

She grinned excitedly, 'Yeah? What have you got? Got the old ones dad made us watch when we were kids?'

'All three seasons. Blue-ray.'

'Brilliant.'

Munching on another handful of chips and half-way through an episode where Captain Kirk was surgically altered to be a Romulan so he could steal a cloaking device, Martha Jones turned to her brother.

'Captain Kirk is actually a woman, you know.'

Leo didn't even look away from the screen. He took another sip of his coke, and snorted, 'Yeah he's totally gay for Mr. Spock, didn't you know?'

She tilted her head; huh, that actually made a lot of sense. 'No, you don't get it Leo,' She said, munching loudly on the chips, 'She's a woman - and I think she's a lesbian.'

Her brother finally gave her a funny look. 'Captain Kirk is a lesbian?'

Martha nodded, 'And a Victoria Secret's model - there's even a cocktail named after her, it's called the Kirk Nebula. And I got drunk with her and we kind of had sex - well,' She looked down and shrugged, 'Sort of, it's kind of blurry.'

Leo stared, 'I can accept that Captain Kirk is gay and secretly boning Mr. Spock off screen, but Martha, I know that med students have a reputation for getting wasted, but seriously sis, lay off the vodkas.'

Grinning broadly, Martha Jones sank back on the sofa and sighed, staring at the ceiling. 'Vodkas have got nothing on the Slusho Mix.'

* * *

_Well I hope people laughed. I had a riot writing this back last year for a prompt that wanted DoctorWho/Star Trek, and for Martha Jones to meet girl Kirk in 23rd century London._

_Originally published online 16 Sept 2009_


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